Breathe me
by Kiekepieks
Summary: What if Bella wasn't the happy-go-lucky girl we all know and love? What if she was depressed and had a disability? Would everything be the same? Would it all change? Could Bella ever be happy?


_**Chapter**__** 1.**_

_**BPOV**_

My life had always been calm and easy, living with my mom in Phoenix, until she got married to Phil.  
I mean, Phil was nice, but too much for me to handle.

I was a 17-year-old girl, not even thinking about me being happy.  
Bullied and abused at school, with no one helping me, I was falling.  
And I was falling hard, hard into nothing.  
Absolute darkness.  
I was on anti depressives, and I didn't even know what I was living for.

My mom wanted to be happy and in love, and wanted me to go to my dad in Forks.  
To be completely honest, I wanted that too.  
A new beginning, and no more being a mom to my own mom.  
I mean, I love her to death, but sometimes, she is just like a three-year-old.  
So I decided to leave Phoenix, leave it all behind, and start over.

Three weeks later I was on the plane, going to my dad, who was really excited that I was coming to life with him.  
He already enrolled me to FHS, Forks High School, and I was terrified.  
I was terrified to go to FHS, to be the new kid, I just really didn't wanted to be bullied, I wanted to get away from being bullied, kicked, slapped and punched every day.  
I listened to my iPod, which was my life saver.  
Without it, I think I wouldn't have survived this long.

I listened to my music all the time, trying to make it all a bit easier, trying to make it a bit more bearable.  
I sang, and wrote songs, a lot.  
People told me I could sing very good, and I really wanted to hear that, because it was what I loved the most.  
I wanted to sing, I wanted to make a album, I wanted to travel, I wanted to be a role model. 

All of that flew out the window when I started High School.  
It was hell.  
Hell on earth.

I never thought I would be the one sitting at the doctor's office to get anti-depressive medication and sleeping pills, so I could sleep without waking up every 10 minutes because of the nightmares who made my nights even more miserable then live during the day.  
Never in my entire life would I have dreamed that to be me.  
But it was.

I thought about how miserable my life really was, and who I really was, and wanted to be.  
My name was Isabella Swan, 17 years old.  
I had curly, red hair, and I was chubby, as I'd like to say.  
I was never the one to have a boyfriend, to wear make-up, or to care how I looked.  
It wouldn't even matter, because they'd bully me, if I was in Christian Dior, or Wall-Mart, for that matter.  
I was tall, and I had problems with my body.

I had a syndrome, which caused me to have pain in my legs all of the time, and making my hips and knees to dislocate maybe 20 times a day.  
I had pain, always.

I even had a wheelchair, to use when I was in that much pain, but I refused.  
I refused because I would be bullied even more, and I was afraid, afraid to be pushed into the lockers, afraid that they'd brake my wheelchair, and afraid that I would be the kid in the wheelchair.  
I refused it, even when I was in so much pain, I cried myself to sleep, and felt like my legs were broken on 20 places, I felt like I was dying and I needed to be in that damn wheelchair, I refused it.  
But I decided that would change.

When I decided I would go and life in Forks, with my dad, I decided I needed that thing, I decided I would use it when I needed it, and I decided it didn't matter what they would think of me.  
My dad had a talk with the principle, when he enrolled me to FHS, about my disability, and the principle told my dad the school was wheelchair friendly, they had a special entrance for wheelchairs, and elevators, so I could get everywhere I needed to be.  
He also mentioned that I would be the only one in a wheelchair, but that it wouldn't matter.  
Even though I knew, it would.

By the time I thought all this through, my plane landed, and I was walking to the exit, waiting for my suitcases and of course, my wheelchair, at the baggage claim.  
When I finally got all my stuff, I had no idea how to get it all to Charlie.  
I put one suitcase in my wheelchair, one I carried, and I had my backpack on my back, of course.  
I found Charlie, walked with him to the car, and was really grateful the ride from Seattle to Forks was only 45 minutes.

I was thinking about everything, looking around me, when I realized it was Friday, and I needed to go to school on Monday.  
We arrived at Charlies, and he put my stuff in my room, leaving my wheelchair downstairs, in the living room, because there was no other place.  
I felt bad about it, and Charlie obviously saw that, because he looked at me told me it was okay, and that it would give the room some color, because my wheelchair is purple.  
I laughed at the comment, and realized that my dad really did love me.  
I always called him Charlie though, no idea why, Dad just sounded a bit weird, and I used it seldom.  
He told me he had made a ramp in front of the house, so I could drive my wheelchair of there.

Besides my dad's police car, there was a large orange pick-up truck, and I looked at it.  
"so, you like it ?" my dad asked.  
"It's amazing, why do you ask ?"  
"because it's yours." My dad told me.  
"NO WAY ! NO WAY ! No way in hell ! Dad ! Oh my gosh !" I screeched, and I walked towards the car.  
Yeah, I walked, because I couldn't run.  
I cursed my legs for being so damn painful, and sat in the truck.

My dad told me to try the truck, so I drove around Forks, trying to remember my dad words.  
"You go right through, until you get to a interchange, and there you go the right. Then you go the third left, and there is your new school."  
I found it, it was relatively easy.  
I looked at the school, and found it charming.  
It wasn't nearly as big as my school in Phoenix, but I liked that.

When I got back to my house, I took the opportunity to go and install myself in my new home.  
My dad bought me purple stuff for in my room, like pillows, a bedspread, a comforter, and he painted 1 wall purple, the rest he did with this off white color, and I loved it. 

I took all my clothes and placed them in my closet, and when I was done with that, I put my toiletry in the bathroom, and reminded myself of the fact that there was only 1 bathroom in this house.  
When all my stuff were where they belonged, I lay on my bed and read a book.  
Then, I cooked for my dad, and we ate pasta with tuna and vegetables.  
I loved Italian food, and I also enjoyed cooking.  
My dad was happy with that fact, because he wasn't a very good cook.

_**Authors note:**__I own nothing, except this particular storyline. This story is un-beta'd. I would like to thank you for reading this and if you want to, please leave a review! Also, I am doubting if I should make this a Bella/Edward, Bella/Carlisle or a Bella/Alice pairing. Tell me your opinion in a review!_


End file.
